


Crystal Steps

by bravevesperian



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, No seriously most of this is canon or at the very least can be inferred as canon, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Rare Pair, canon slow roasted at 365 degrees and carved for juicy bits, there are a bunch of little kinks if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravevesperian/pseuds/bravevesperian
Summary: All steps lead me back to you.G'raha Tia was part of the same organizations as all of the Scions. He must have known them, and wears the symbol of the Circle of Knowing. Like Thancred, it is alluded that he was taken under Loisoix's wing (to a lesser extent) and studied at the Studium and became and Archon of Sharlyan-- just like all of the main storyline Scions.This is a purely speculative piece I dreamed up after noticing how similar some parts of Thancred and G'raha's backstories were and thought-- what if they DID know each other well? They could have grown up together. What if all of that and-- they were falling in love every step of the way.





	1. 1. Revenant's Toll

The sound of song, raucous and somewhat off-key punctuated the atmosphere of the bar as Thancred sat down his tankard with a thud. He playfully swung his fingertips through the air as though he were personally conducting the choir of drunken men. He may have started it, after all-- just to get some bit of joy back into the far-too-dour-for-his-taste crowd. He supposed he couldn't blame them, after all that had happened. 

So pleased was he with his mischief making that the sound of a sweet voice that could only be called angelic-- hitting every note and little nuance in the old song-- came in like nails on a chalk board when it did. Shocked and annoyed that his rough and bawdy moment was being smoothed over so, he quickly searched the crowd for the source of the sound and found little surprise when he caught sight of a shock of fire-red hair, the fluffy ears nestled within it partially laid back in concentration. 

G'raha Tia often hung around on the fringes of the more rough and tumble Scions-and-Scions'-allies-groups that gathered at the Seventh Heaven. Nowadays even more so as he had been keeping a close eye on his colleagues at Saint Coinach's Find outside of town. His eccentricities and general tone-deafness to nearly everything _but_ music and history kept him from making close friends, though-- as did his otherwise aloof nature. 

Maybe it was a Miqo'te thing, or maybe it was just a _G'raha_ thing. Thancred had never bothered to find out. They had known each other-- or at least _of_ each other-- as children in the Sharlyan colony out in the wilderness. Both were strays brought in under Louisoix's wing, but the younger of the two had been set to the books while Thancred trained in espionage and subterfuge. Though they had feared each other as competition at one point, for a short time, they had come out at the same rank-- both being made Archons of some renown in their arts. 

G'raha's sweet voice made Thancred weak in the knees, but he blamed it on the drink and rolled his eyes theatrically. The Miqo'te's brow shot up a bit when he realized he had been noticed and trailed off, blinking a bit dumbly. 

"But, 'tis that not how the tune goes?" He asked, clearly mystified. 

A burst of laughter caused his already aloof expression to glaze over and Thancred all but leapt from his chair to play at damage control. This was not something that he had the opportunity for often, after all. He loved indulging in wine, women, and song-- but there were other things that held his attention, too. Things that weren't just tools for forgetting all that he'd seen and done in the name of the Light. Things with mismatched eyes and all the social skills of a socially reticent preening peacock. 

He feared he'd lost him for the night already as G'raha all but melted back into the background, likely regretting making such an entrance at all in the first place. Thancred's sudden absence was hardly noticed as the shouting and singing continued, though his poor partner-in- _spy_ Riol was already face-down on the bar.

Meanwhile, G'raha kicked himself for interjecting where he wasn't welcome. As much as he wore their symbols upon himself, he had never felt terribly at home with the new collective of people known as Scions. He had walked under Louisoix's leadership until it passed to Minfilia, and then felt he needed to choose his own path. The crumbling of mountains and upheaval of earth had brought more and more of Allag's legacy to the surface. If he only focused on that, he wouldn't worry so much about his social short-comings.

He didn't expect Thancred to come after him to his table in the corner where he was trying desperately to keep up with all of the topics being discussed-- most of which were not about _Allagan_ anything, and hardly managed to hold his interest. So caught off guard was he that he didn't even offer a greeting, just blinked owlishly and asked, "Yes, what is it?" 

"Sorry," Thancred began, a bit breathlessly. "It's just that-- your voice among such rabble comes off as a pearl cast to the swine. I could not much deny my shock upon hearing you join us. Tell me, G'raha-- what brings you down from your mountain of research?" 

"Trying to soothe me now, are you?" He asked in return, the ghost of a smirk on his plush lips. "Now, now-- you know my pride is hardly something wont for protection. I took no offense." He avoided or ignored Thancred's question of his presence altogether, not having the heart to point out that he manifested rather regularly to pretend to laugh at everyone's jokes and understand the social inner workings of their splintered organizations and colleagues. 

"Twelve forfend, I would never consider such a thing," Thancred said in his defense, though it was a blatant lie. 

"My research never looks at me with judgmental eyes," He added and turned back to sip his drink.

"Tell me all about it, and I'll tell you what I can about Ultima Weapon." The Scion offered as he settled into the opposite chair, hands folded. 

G'raha's lips parted slightly as though he were about to say something and then re-thought it. It took him several moments to formulate, his voice lowered: "And what of the Ascians? What are they like? What obsession with Allag drives them? What... what did it _feel_ like?" He knew it could be a sensitive and intrusive thing to ask-- who wanted to talk about the experience of being possessed by a dark entity and used against their friends? Though Thancred's face went a bit pale at the mention he knew how to cut a bargain and nodded before leaning in to tell his tale. 

They talked into the early morning hours, animated and intent on one another's areas of expertise. While Thancred's gift for subterfuge had nearly been his undoing, he had learned much. G'raha sat enraptured throughout the tale, and then offered his own knowledge of ancient Allag in return, filling in gaps where he could. 

G'raha couldn't remember anyone sitting and listening to him for so long at once in a long while, even among his colleagues and associates. The way Thancred looked at him, he was even beginning to believe that he was genuinely interested. Come to think of it, he wasn't entirely certain that anyone had ever really looked at him like that before-- but that was a mystery for another time.

By the time his rambling had become disjointed by lack of sleep, both of their eyelids were drooping. G'raha's sleep-deprived brain kept repeating the same snippet of information over and over: that Cid Nan Garlond was in town, and that he had set his eyes up on the Crystal Tower. If anyone could blaze a path inside, it would be him. That much, G'raha was sure of. 

Usually, keeping company for too long was exhausting, but G'raha found himself sad to see Thancred go when he finally lost the battle against sleep. He watched him go, passing through into the Rising Stones and into the realm of what was only for Minfilia's Scions. For a moment he wondered if he'd made the wrong choice-- to chose the order of Baldesion over them despite their shared goals. Of course, thinking on what he considered his lacking skills in the martial arts department-- he knew he had made at least a somewhat educated decision. 

 

Two days later, G'raha wandered the market at Revenant's Toll, looking to refill his quiver of arrows after losing several in a skirmish. The talk of the Black Wolf's defeat was on the lips of nearly everyone at every stall. He wondered if they knew the toll it took on those who had fought the battle-- and more than ever, he found himself curious about this "Warrior of Light" of theirs. Lost in thought, he had been transfixed on the distant glimmer of something over the walls: on the horizon-- when he felt someone's arm slip into his own-- propped up presently by his hand on his hip. 

He started, but then relaxed when he caught the familiar glimpse of silvery hair and tawny skin. In the afternoon sun, Thancred's eyes shone like amber in their near luminescence-- and G'raha thought they seemed lighter than he remembered them being when they were younger. The Miqo'te made a soft noise of confusion in place of a question as Thancred began to take charge of and guide the little walk he'd been on. 

Thancred's long fingers tapped lightly on the thick leather bracer that covered G'raha's forearm as he raised a hand in greeting to Slafborn while they strolled past. The air of silence between them was odd though, and eventually G'raha's ever-present need for stimulation won out.

"And-- to whence are we going, exactly?" G'raha asked, trying not to splutter.   
"Oh, to anywhere and any way the wind might see fit to blow us." Came the near sing-song answer.   
"That hardly answers my inquiry, Thancred," He responded dryly.  
"Must our excursion have a point of interest? Why not merely enjoy the... ah. The expansive crystalline wastes together?" 

"I'm not terribly pre-occupied, but you must needs--"  
"--Master Thancred!" G'raha's attempt at getting some kind of direction out of the man were interrupted by a woman who approached them, beaming brightly. 

"Well hello-- hail and well met ah... miss... eh--" As he struggled, the enthusiasm in the woman's expression waned. G'raha began to feel as though he were intruding, and tried to free himself from Thancred's grip. 

"G'raha--"

To his surprise as he slipped away, Thancred followed-- never giving him more than a few steps' worth of room until they were standing several paces past the main Aetheryte, Thancred's arm around his middle to pull him close as the woman scoffed, rolled her eyes, and turned to stalk away. 

He had only a moment to register his heart racing before his natural sense of logic kicked in. "If I'm to be a prop in the sordid games you play with ladies' hearts well-- I'm fair certain there are those more suited to the task." 

"That is not why I accosted you at all-- 'Raha, oh it's _all going wrong_ ," He lamented, shaking his head and stepping back to give the smaller man some space. 

G'raha raised his brow as he was wont to do and crossed his arms. He stood firmly upon the cobblestones with the Ironworks to the his back, feeling the dampness of the stone whence the sun had long since crept past. 

"'Tis not? Then for what, I wonder? Surely not to hear me dither on about my research." _'Raha_. He hadn't been called that in a long time-- not since he was a boy. A simple nickname, one easily lost in the simple slip of the tongue-- or found in the same way. It was rather normal for Miqo'te to call each other thusly by removing the prefix that announced their tribal affiliation. He found he didn't mind it on Thancred's lips, either. 

Thancred sighed and pushed a hand back through his pale hair. "Let me speak plain. I meant only to spend more time with you." 

"And what of the lady?" His tone became terse again, as if something was hanging upon the answer. Everyone knew Thancred's reputation-- it remained to be seen if there was any truth to be had in it or not, or if his wild exploits were merely a front. 

"Never you mind," He said. 

G'raha seemed pleased with that answer and returned to Thancred's side. "You know, I have always wanted to see the interior of the Rising Stones. What _have_ you lot been up to these days?" 

He let Thancred rest his hand at the small of his back as they walked, finding that he rather liked the attention. That in and of itself was an interesting concept. 

"Do you remember how things were before the Calamity? Before..." Thancred trailed off. 

"Before we lost master Louisoix." G'raha completed for him. He nodded in response as they passed to the back wall of the Seventh Heaven tavern.

"Are you longing for the sweet, halcyon days of our youth?" G'raha continued when further responses were not forthcoming. 

"I find myself burdened with the sting of regret." Thancred announced as they lingered in the common area. He watched G'raha's mismatched eyes search the room, a fondness in his expression. 

"And why is that, pray tell?' 

"I regret not expending the efforts it would have required to mayhap-- know you better and keep you closer." The answer surprised G'raha enough to redirect his piercing gaze to the Scion's face. 

He was always so easy to read when he spoke of matters of the heart. G'raha wondered if he ought to be angry or relieved. "Then you are mayhap, less skilled in your daring field of subterfuge than I might have thought. Did you not notice me, lingering nearby day in and day out? Or could we perhaps blame the drink that you so often let cloud your thoughts?" 

G'raha was good at being cutting and honest and now was no exception. He felt the eyes of the sutler behind the bar on them, as if they were expecting drama or a fight. Here among the Scions, he knew that information was tantamount, especially when so many turncoats had so recently been routed from their midst. 

"Notice you, I did. 'Raha, I noticed you every day of our lives and then some--" He began. 

G'raha raised his hand and shushed him, feeling exposed by the openness of the room. "Pray, let us take this somewhere that we may speak unheard and unharassed." 

Thancred paused, looking terribly vulnerable for a moment before he took G'raha's hand and turned toward the hallway that led to the Infirmary and the Scions' personal rooms. Thancred kept rooms in a few places throughout Eorzea, but carried very few personal affects from over the years. Their line of work made such things into luxuries. It seemed every time he managed to accumulate a few things he liked, they were washed away in the tide of war. He'd taken to only putting value into things he could carry: a favorite dagger, jewelry and the like. 

When the door clicked shut behind him, G'raha remained leaning against it, hoping the solid nature of it would ground him against the dangerous magnetic pull that was Thancred Waters. 

"So you noticed, and yet still you chose to say nothing at all. Why? Why, when you so gayly spend your affections upon Rowena's girls and any other that comes your way? Were they more shiny, perhaps?" G'raha flushed at his own offer of vulnerability.

"We are-- _were_ \-- Scions, G'raha. What kind of permanence could any of us pray to keep?" 

"Eons of it should we so choose," The statement was odd and cryptic, and G'raha offered no further clarification. "What did you dream you would become at Louisoix's side? Have all such hopes come to naught? Is there not another day, and a new dawn upon which we now firmly plant our feet?" 

"'Raha..." He trailed off and turned back towards him. Thancred closed the distance, his hands raised as though he may take the man into his arms, but he stopped short as if held back by some invisible force. 

"Please," G'raha said. 

Thancred looked as though his knees might buckle. The war within him raged on, and very suddenly, he lost. 

He fell forward as if by accident, hands pushing back into G'raha's crimson hair as he brought him close and kissed him. The Miqo'te's tail thumped against the door as he searched for purchase by balling his fists into Thancred's shirt. Thancred's lips lingered, warm and soft against G'raha's as his fingertips moved down to brush callouses against the marks that they shared on either side of their neck, matching: Marks afforded only to those who had been awarded the status of Archon in Sharlyan. 

" _Please,_ " G'raha intoned again.   
"Yes, anything. For you, 'Raha-- Speak and I shall pluck the moon from the skies for you."   
"I have had full enough of moons being plucked from the skies," He answered against Thancred's lips-- and he laughed. 

"What more, then?" 

"Only everything. Only your heart. Remember my name, at least won't you?" 

"I could never forget." Came the answer as he pulled him close. G'raha rested his cheek on Thancred's shoulder, one velveteen ear folded against the curve of his neck as he let himself be held. Such things were a luxury he had known scarce little of in his life. From the moment his father had sent him to the Studium, he had lived with only the sense of fierce independence that one such as he might grow. 

G'raha had been from a small tribe with little contact with the outside. They roamed the wilds where the Black Shroud, Coerthas, and Mor Dhona brushed up against each other-- in the shadow of ancient Allag's ruins. He counted himself lucky that his father realized his potential and gave him the opportunity he received. All the same, he had had to fight tooth and nail in much the same way that Thancred had. 

They had known each other: walked in the same orbit as parallel lines that never intersected but also never diverged for most of their lives. 

Thancred pulled back, his expression tender. For a few long moments he gazed at G'raha's face as though he were searching for something. It was the ghost of the boy with a scraggly tail and ears that he hadn't quite grown into yet that he remembered-- hunched over in one of the Studium's libraries as he picked through Allagan tomestones that had already been cataloged: "to ensure their translations' accuracy," he had said. He'd ignored Thancred three times that day, when he'd tried to get his attention.

Once more, G'raha leaned up to kiss him-- still soft and insistent and eager-- but he stepped back suddenly as the linkpearl he wore against his ear crackled to life. 

"-- Are you most certain?" A pause, and Thancred found himself tilting his head.

"By all means, then we must needs acquire this aether sand at any cost. I believe I know just the man-- no, no, don't tell Rammbroes. I shall simply complete the task. Consider it my way of sticking my nose where it most certainly does belong. You'll see--" 

When he returned his attention to Thancred, the Scion gave him a questioning look. 

"My contact at Saint Coinach's Find says that Cid Nan Garlond has in fact arrived-- and that he thinks he has riddled a way to disable the barrier between us and the entrance to the tower; the very desire of my heart, the pinnacle of my life's obsession--"

"Now, now-- I know you must be off to do your research's bidding, but I'm beginning to feel jealous of a big piece of rock." Thancred complained.

"It is so much _more_ than that." And while Thancred prepared himself for another overlong explanation, he also prepared himself for the inevitable long silence of G'raha disappearing into his own head for an unknown amount of time again.


	2. Calamity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories of the Calamity and its aftermath bookend Thancred and G'raha's exploration of each other. 
> 
> (This is why the fic is rated explicit, by the way.)

When the moon came down, G'raha had been firmly entrenched in the libraries on the Isle of Val, far from where Dalamud made landfall. When the students of Baldesion fanned out across Aldenard in its wake to study the changes caused by the calamity, no one questioned why he was one of the first to volunteer. After all-- he was obsessed with Allagan technology. Of course, G'raha wanted to take stock of the pieces that had survived the harrowing crash into the planet bellow. Academic types had their way of being disconnected from the human impact of world events, no matter how altruistic their work was.

No one thought twice about it and they thought even less about his personal ties to those who had gone missing in its wake. That was the kind of connection that someone as closed off as G'raha made with people. 

His research? Oh, they all knew all about that. It was all he talked about when he wasn't crooning the oldest ballads he knew passed down by their Onishishu trade partners and his tribe. They knew he always talked like he was right and often, to their chagrin, he was. They didn't know that Louisoix had been something of a father figure to him, and they didn't know that his first thought when setting foot upon Vylbrand from their ship would be to rush to U'ldah via the local airship routes. 

The students of Baldesion were free to do as they would as far as their research, but G'raha didn't even bother to attempt to come up with an excuse. He found the land in chaos, though in better shape than he had heard the Black Shroud and his own homeland was. He lamented the loss of historical Amdapori architecture that some of his colleagues would be devastated by, but his mind was elsewhere as he searched the streets for familiar faces. 

A part of the mighty walls had been destroyed by falling debris, and the skies were dark from the ash hanging in the atmosphere. The Waking Sands was crawling with the survivors of the event, which they were now referring to as the Calamity. Upon finding a few familiar faces, he heard the first about Bahamut. He fought the urge to accost them for an in-depth account, as he had only one _real_ mission at the time:

_Where was Thancred and had anyone seen him?_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thancred had laughed and admonished him as G'raha recounted the tale of how he had finally met their new Warrior of Light. He'd given quite the performance, recounting how their hero had raced against the clock before his very eyes as he remained hidden among the tops of the trees in order to get their hands on the aethersand that he had already decided to deliver to his old friend, Rammbroes, of his own accord. 

As Thancred told him he ought not to be so cruel to their vaulted savior, he'd pulled him into his lap. His knees dug into the leather of the settee in Thancred's suite, braced on either side of the other man's thighs. G'raha let the laughter of the moment before lift him up, his spirits effervescent in the wake of Thancred's encouragement.

Having the barriers between them torn down hadn't been a slow process. Everything had changed with the admission-- with the sharing of what they had always known but kept from each other, there was nothing to stop their desire from running rampant. --And why should it? Who had the right to tell them they should reign it in, or act another way? Especially when it was Thancred they were talking about. 

He chuckled against G'raha's lips as he leaned up to kiss him, his hands coming around to grip at the curve of his ass. The heat of his breath made the Miqo'te shiver, and he ground his hips forward just slightly as he nipped at Thancred's bottom lip.

"Thancred, pray tell-- what were we thinking all those years? What made us think that we had anything to gain by hiding such things away from each other?" 

"Oh 'Raha, you have such a way of thinking about things. Such intricacies for your dusty Allagan tomestones, yet matters of the heart you call simple."

"It _is_ simple. Or mayhap you are at a loss for our ah... cultural differences?" 

Where there were questions of Miqo'te culture, each isolated tribe was different-- but most shared the rumor of their promiscuity due to their relationship dynamics which were drastically different from those of most other races. 

Thancred wrinkled his nose as he leaned back far enough to meet G'raha's gaze, searching his face to ascertain his meaning. The information he connected into one thought made him swallow around a lump in his throat. A part of him had given the man up for lost years ago, assuming he had never considered things such as the more physical part of relationships at all. 

"I _see_ ," G'raha continued. "'Tis wrote clear as day upon your face. You must have long thought my aversion to extroversion to mean that such inclinations would carry through to my bedroom habits. Well, my _dear_ man, I am pleased to inform you that you are sorely mistaken." 

It was rare that Thancred was anything but smooth and composed, though it was a front to cover his more genuine nature. His carefully affected simulacrum passed away as a shade entirely as G'raha spoke, his voice lowered and syllables lilting. Thancred blinked at the smaller man sitting astride his lap, eyes a bit wide as he found himself momentarily blind-sided. 

"I-I-Is--" He swallowed again, voice cracking and jumping an octave in the process. "Is that so?" 

"Mm," Came the wordless response as the Miqo'te's crimson eye peered at him from beneath the fringe of his red hair. It was hidden from nearly every angle but this one. 

The embarrassment washed away in place of a vague sense of jealousy. Thancred had been so focused on pining away for G'raha's odd aloof personality that he had largely missed his more private movements. He was often surrounded by people after all, popular enough though never forming deep attachments. That fact clicked into place, and he nearly cursed out loud. He was likely having plenty of romps in his private moments, he just didn't seek out any kind of commitment. 

"Do you mean to suggest I might've had you years ago--" He began. G'raha silenced him with another kiss. 

"Nay, not like this." Thancred's heart raced, fluttering in his throat at the answer. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt such warmth all at once, and worried that he'd suddenly taken ill again. He'd been unwell off and on ever since being brought back from the Praetorium, after all. 

He found himself at a loss for anything else worth saying, and G'raha seemed to emphasize the fact that the time for words was over. He unfastened the straps that held his fur and leather gauntlets to his forearms and tossed them aside. Thancred drew in a shaky breath and averted his amber gaze. There was something oddly erotic about even the most chaste body part when it was one you hardly ever saw-- and when you were absolutely crazy about the person it was attached to. 

He brought G'raha's inner wrist to his lips and left a scathing, lingering kiss against the soft, newly exposed skin. 

A harsh breath that was nearly a groan left the delicate cupid's bow of the Miqo'te's lips, accompanying a wave of goosebumps up his arm as he shifted and pushed Thancred's hair back from his face. 

"Enough of this chasteness, Thancred. Take me. I'm yours: have me as you always wished. Show me all that you have longed for." 

"-- _'Raha_ ," The response was a near growl that sent a shiver down the Miqo'te's tail-- enough to cause the plush hair on his tail and ears to stand on end. 

"One night could not hope to give me enough time to show you all of the ways--" Thancred breathed, and it was G'raha's turn to turn to jelly. 

Thancred pushed his hands beneath the hem of his quilted vest, thumb running up the split to unfasten the closures one by one. As his knuckles bumped their way up the gently ridged plain of G'raha's lightly muscled stomach, he shuddered at the warmth. He found himself focused on the touch as though it were the only thing in all the worlds. 

The Miqo'te found himself less inclined to stay so inactive, and after swiftly shrugging out of his vest, he leaned in to unfasten the belt that secured Thancred's rough-woven black tunic at the waist. One of his daggers clattered from the sheathe and to the floor, but neither of them cared. 

Getting impatient, G'raha leaned back and began to unfasten the laces at his waist, still looking down at Thancred from his perch upon his lap as he commanded: "Take it off," gesturing towards his tunic and with his chin. 

Thancred had no witty response in his repertoire to suffice, and so he fumbled for a moment before hooking his fingers under both the tunic and the soft white undershirt he wore, peeling them up and over his head at once. He dropped it to the side and sat, breathless as he watched for G'raha's reaction. 

His breath caught at the sight of his mismatched eyes, glassy with want and elongated pupils blown wide. He sat speechless for a moment, slightly slack-jawed-- and in the process stroked the other man's ego in ways he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced. A bit of pride welled up in his chest, but the fondness for Thancred was stronger. 

G'raha smiled warmly and brushed his calloused fingertips-- the fingertips of a practiced archer-- over the rise of Thancred's cheekbones and caught himself biting at his bottom lip. "There are better sights to see, still." He promised. 

A broken sound of affirmation left the Scion and he wrapped his arms around G'raha's waist, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to his chest. His tail brushed against Thancred's knees as it swayed and twitched with the punctuated gasps that came from his parted lips. As he kissed lower, he slipped his hands down past the already loosened waistband of G'raha's trousers to grip his hips. 

With a bit of a stumble and a half-step back to get to his feet, G'raha kicked and squirmed his way out of his boots and let his trousers and small clothes fall in the tangle of fabric, brazen before Thancred's hungry eyes. He squirmed against his arousal where he stood, plush thighs pressed together for a few moments as he took a deep breath and bit at his lip again. 

Thancred cursed aloud at the sight, and found himself rather impatient, no longer feeling bashful or unsure of what he was doing. He rose to his feet before slipping his fingers under the thick silver gorget that G'raha wore 'round his neck to gently pull him along. He turned them in a half circle before nudging him forward onto the settee. 

He caught himself effortlessly with a small burst of giggles that became a gasp as Thancred sharply slapped the curve of his now-exposed ass. He gripped the back of the settee with a soft hiss and parted his thighs just so-- as Thancred ran his hand along the length of his tail in a motion that was nearly absent-minded. He had to stop, to think of the position he was in; how he had longed to be with G'raha-- how long he had tried to pass it off to himself as simple lust, and while it _was_ that, how it had become much deeper. 

\--As deep at least, as he was about to be buried inside of that sweet, supple ass at any rate.

He paused only to reach into the bureau at the end of the settee for a bottle of oil. He uncorked it and let it drip down between G'raha's legs, then slicked his own eager cock. 

Even the keening of G'raha's moans and sighs had a musical tone to them. Thancred had always thought his charisma was effortless, and it seemed to hold true even in a moment this heated. A sweet singing voice, indeed--

The Miqo'te jolted as he was penetrated, and Thancred reveled in the wash of goosebumps that spread up his back. He held to the slope of G'raha's surprisingly voluptuous hips. There was a moment where he wondered why he was always hiding such a shapely body under all of those tool belts and whatnot-- but now was hardly the time. 

The lightly calloused fingers of a rogue worked their way up the now familiar curve of G'raha's stomach and chest, stopping to press and rub lightly against his nipples.The stimulation got him a series of desperate whines in return. G'raha bucked his hips erratically back against Thancred's cock, and the Scion shuddered and groaned at the friction. 

"You feel... like unto heaven," He managed, though his breath was short and his tone husky. 

" _Gods_ ," Seemed to be all that G'raha could manage before Thancred began to thrust steadily into him. 

Falling apart into a sloppy mess of mewls and whimpers, he shook and trembled under the Scion's steadfast rhythm. Thancred found that he rather liked the ticklish sensation of G'raha's tail against his stomach. 

"Please--" The sudden plea came sweet to his ears. 

"Please what, my dear?" He answered, punctuated by a thrust rough enough to make the settee jolt back, closing the small gap between it and the wall. 

"I-- I must needs-- I-- I-- Gods, Thancred, won't you touch me?" 

"But am I not already?" He teased, and ghosted the fingertips of one hand against the velvet smooth head of G'raha's touch-starved dick. 

He whined and arched towards the stimulation, but only got Thancred pulling back as a result, chasing him down from the high of his almost-climax. The Scion settled on the plush settee next to G'raha and patted his thigh.

"Come-- and I shall give you all you long for and more."   
The Miqo'te gave one of his famously bratty pouts at the insistence, though he did get to his shaky feet. 

"If you've such a mind to be difficult, I can finish what you started on my own," He mused, and reached down to start stroking himself while Thancred watched. 

Glassy-eyed and utterly transfixed, he watched, slack jawed, before he stood and abruptly lifted the smaller man from his feet. G'raha was so surprised that he yelped, and they tumbled into the bed at the other end of the room a few moments later, a mess of limbs. 

Thancred laughed and G'raha spluttered, barely suppressing his own amusement, even as the taller man pressed against him from behind. 

There was something intimate about being pressed body-to-body, stomach-to-back in such a way, and G'raha tilted his head back until he could (albeit sloppily) kiss Thancred as he pressed back inside of him. 

This time, the Scion's arm was braced against G'raha's chest to hold him against him while his free hand went to press and stroke between his thighs. 

The way that G'raha writhed and moaned against him was nigh on angelic, Thancred was certain that if there was any divinity in the world that this was it; a perfection of the life force of the planet, of the very aether-- He had no shortage of genuinely divine experiences to compare to, but this-- this was beyond anything he knew. 

The ripples of pleasure G'rahas' body was pulsing through him had him struggling to keep up. On their sides like this, there wasn't much room for a huge range of motion, but that wasn't always necessary. He was able to stay buried deep inside of G'raha's tightness as he jerked him off, mercilessly hastening the climax he had just so recently denied him. 

"Thancred-- _Thancred_ Oh-- Oh, gods, gods please--" The tangled mess of words the Miqo'te managed drew a pleased growl out of his partner as he continued to rock into him. They could both feel his muscles tightening, thighs quivering as he wound tighter and tighter-- More lovely than a musical scale came his cries and moans, all building up to a fever pitch of a long groan as he came into Thancred's fist. 

He began to shake and twitch as Thancred gripped his hips, continuing to fuck into him as he rode out his pleasure, drawing the orgasm out longer than he thought was even possible-- and finally buried himself roughly to the hilt with a low snarl that became a soft moan as he came as well. 

His mind began to drift as he listened to G'raha's breathing start to come down and even out, the slick of sweat between them no deterrent to how he held him against himself and buried his face against his neck. Absently, his fingertips passed through the fur on his ears as he prepared to simply bask in the silence. After so long, he could hardly believe it was happening, and then--

G'raha squirmed around to face him, lust-hazed gaze striking in its crimson and aqua hues. 

"I don't want to stop." He said plainly.   
"Good gods, I am but one man--" Thancred intoned, brow raising.   
"Aye, and so am I... So am I." 

The Miqo'te ground their hips together, ignoring the mess of sweat and cum as he gripped their cocks in one hand and began to thrust into it. 

\------------------------------------------------

"I don't understand. What do you mean, Master Louisoix is--"   
"I am truly sorry, G'raha. I know full well what he meant to you. What he meant to all of us." Rammbroes stood in the hallway leading to the solar. He had a bandage binding up his arm, blessedly the only damage he seemed to have taken in the unbelievable destruction caused by the shards of Dalamud. 

G'raha wondered if any of his tribe had survived. They lived not but a few malms from what was now considered ground zero, in the place where everything came together near Revanant's Toll. He wondered if anyone he knew had made it out, and how stupid he had been thinking it was wise to study with the students of Baldesion rather than remaining behind with the Circle of Knowing. How had he been so out of the loop? Were his social shortcomings really enough to make him this dense? 

He bit back bitter tears and paced the space for a moment, so overcome with rage and hurt that he thought about throwing himself upon his colleague-- though he'd stand nary a chance against such a mountain of a man. 

"What are we to do? What... what must we do?" He asked absently. 

Rammbroes lowered his head, looking as defeated as G'raha felt. "I'm afraid I've no words of wisdom to offer this time. 'Tis all that we can do to try to carry on the work."

"The work." 

He had given in to despair when a wave of commotion drew his attention. Through his tears, he saw a group of people coming down the hall, many others surrounding them in a clamor. 

Y'shtola Ruhl he recognized first, and behind her in his black tunic came Thancred followed by Yda. G'raha stubbornly scrubbed his face against the sleeve of his robe, seeing finally that Urianger was bringing up the rear with Minfilia. All seemed accounted for, thank the heavens. Urianger carried in his arms, cradled like a babe, something wrapped in cloth. 

Rammbroes pushed past G'raha to get to them, booming his own torrent of questions. The only thing that stuck in the Miqo'te's aching mind was the fact that he carried in his arms the broken pieces of Louisox's staff, Tupsimati. 

The faces of the inner Circle of Knowing were desolate. G'raha heard Papalymo consoling Yda who couldn't seem to pull herself together. All of them were filthy, faces red and eyes a bit puffy. While he stood there, shedding his own tears-- he suddenly felt as if he had lost the right to be among them, or to cry at all. He hadn't been there. He hadn't been ready to give his all for their leader. 

He wiped his eyes again, and when his arm came away, Thancred was staring at him through the crowd. He set his jaw and excused himself-- and that was the last time he'd been inside of the Waking Sands as a member of what would come to be called the Scions. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

_History must be changed._

Darkness yawned beneath him as far as the eye could see. There was nothing: pure nothingness. The empty void was enough to swallow him up when he heard it again-- more felt the voice.

_Ahead looms a calamity._

He searched for the source of the sound to no avail, and again felt like falling, falling--

Thancred sat up in a cold sweat, gasping for air as though he were drowning. G'raha had woken up in the same moment, startled by his sudden movement. He stroked the hair back from Thancred's face-- _confound it, he always wore it in his face,_ and tried to soothe him. 

"You were dreaming, it was-- it was just a dream. All is well, see?" And it was true. The room was the same with its thick stone walls and familiar lamps, now burning so low that they hardly gave any light at all. 

"A...A dream, yes, of course. Forgive me for waking you, 'Raha." The Miqo'te leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling him in close. 

"No more dark dreams. We are safe. You are you. You are whole." He soothed.

Thancred couldn't recall what he'd heard in the dream no matter how hard he tried. By morning, he had forgotten it entirely.


End file.
